Stolen Moments
by Lyretta
Summary: Drabbles featuring Roger and Edilio, and their relationship.
1. Gambit

**A/N**: A drabble a day. How hard can it be?

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20. May 2012: **GAMBIT**. "a remark made to open or redirect a conversation."

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"You look exhausted."

This opening gambit between Roger and Edilio had become standard for the two of them. If there were other people around Edilio would put on a smile, shake his head and insist he was fine. But if they were alone like now, something that rarely happened, Edilio would almost fall into Roger's arms, clinging to his support with all he had.

"You need to rest, 'Dilio."

"Can't. Clive's sick, so I have to do his guard shift. Sinder's requesting my help to something in the garden, and I swear, if it's _another_ mutated snake, Sam has to go, but he won't, because he and Astrid are on some kind of extended vacation in their houseboat, and…"

Before Edilio could continue, he felt a pair of soft lips on his own. Just like that he could feel all the anger, stress and frustration being sucked out of him, all because of the boy who stood before him.

Roger, the boy who had become Edilio's rock in the FAYZ. The one stable, good thing he had with him. The one person who had, in a very short time, been able to break through Edilio's walls and helped builed him up, who knew all his insecurities, his quirks, knew about his fear of snakes and how much he really missed his brothers.

After so long in the FAYZ, Edilio knew not to trust easily. Everyone could switch side. Roger was the one person he trusted the most. He wasn't going anywhere.

Edilio smiled into the kiss, and had to put one hand on Roger's waist to support himself.

Maybe he could use some minutes to relax. All of his problems weren't exactly going anywhere.


	2. Belabor

**A/N**: I find the words on dictionary . com. And in my headcanon, Roger is one year younger than Edilio.

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21. May 2012: **BELABOR**. "to explain, worry about, or work more than is necessary."

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The only thing that could be heard was the sound of Roger's pen on paper. The comfortable silence lay between them.

A frown was painted across Roger's face, as he concentrated on the drawing. His tongue was sticking out in the left corner of his mouth, and he bit gently on it with his teeth. Edilio was watching, fascinated with how much passion the younger boy put into drawing, and more than once he found himself distracted by the tongue.

Roger looked up from his drawing. The frown softened at first, but came back merely seconds after.

"You're moving your head again," he said.

"Sorry."

"It's fine, just…look to the left, alright?"

As soon as Edilio moved his head, Roger went back to his paper. A few times he shot quick glances at Edilio, but he didn't have any more corrections. The silence fell over them yet again.

"Are you finished soon?" Edilio asked, after sitting for what felt like ages.

"No," Roger answered with a shrug and small smile.

"You've worked for ages."

"An artist is never done."

"So I have to sit here for the rest of my life?"

"I didn't say that. It's just not finished yet."

Edilio sighed. His muscles were beginning to feel sore.

"Can you show me?" he asked.

Roger looked up again, but just shook his head and went back to the drawing.

"Why not?"

"It's not done."

"Can't I at least see your work in progress? Come on. Por favor?"

Without another word, Roger took a last look at his paper and handed it to Edilio.

There, on the paper, drawn with one of the last pencils Roger had left, was an almost perfect copy of Edilio's own face. Edilio suspected that the face on the paper was cleaner than his actual face, as he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen soap, or actually looked himself in a mirror. Still, it was perfect. He found himself unable to resist touching the image. With his fingers he felt the texture of the paper; the lines of the graphite, the dumps were the pencil had been pressed harder than usual. It felt as if he had never seen such a drawing.

The more he looked, the fewer things he found that could be improved on.

"What do you think?" Roger said, and broke the silence.

"It's really, really good. You have a talent."

Roger smiled, looking reassured.

"I was planning on taking art classes at college. Still am, if I ever get to college."

Edilio chose to overlook the last part of the sentence. Right now, he didn't want to focus on the situation they were in.

"This drawing is done. What more could you possibly do on it?"

A soft laugh erupted from Roger.

"Okay, so I was trying to drag out time. I knew I was technically done with the picture half an hour ago. But I wanted to keep you here, and spend time with you. You can't blame me for that."

No, Edilio decided, he couldn't. Sore muscles or not, this was worth it.


	3. Fantast

A/N: Based on a headcanon on the gone series headcanons tumblr on tumblr, so credit for the idea goes to them. And I'm now aware that I'm not capable of writing a drabble a day.

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21. May 2012: **FANTAST**. "a visionary or dreamer."

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Inside his mind, Roger was far away from Perdido Beach. In the town, every street stunk of pee and something that smelled suspiciously like rotten meat. The streets away from the center of town were mostly abandoned, unless there was food to find. Kids lived in packs, like wolves, and were as wild and hungry as wolves, too.

No, in his mind Roger was anywhere but there. He liked to think he was with his grandparents, on their old farm, hidden far from civilization. His grandmother always had a batch of cookies in the oven ready for Roger when he came to visit. In the summer the flowers grew everywhere outside, and they had newly picked flowers in the window sill. The house would smell like soap and rosemary. If Roger closed his eyes he swore he could still smell it. In the winter, however, the hills would be completely covered in snow. Roger and his grandfather always had snow fights, and when his grandmother felt well enough, she joined in. They would play until they were all exhausted, and then they made snow angels. Back home Roger would of course never do this, but there, he felt like a kid over and over again, no matter how much he grew when he was away.

These were the images and memories Roger tried to convey through his paintings. He kept thinking that if he got it right and managed to portray it the way he wanted to, he could feel alright again too.

It was in many ways his escape from the hell Perdido Beach was.

Weeks came, and weeks passed, and months started. Roger slowly began to run out of paper, and tried to cut down on his drawing routine, which was basically all he did. It was around this time he tried to find a new place to live, and in the process met Justin, who ended up being a great distraction from his other habits. Who knew that having a kid around could be such a good thing?

While having a friend in Justin was the best thing to happen to him so far in the FAYZ, Roger ended up missing drawing after a few short weeks. He ended up going through some boxes in one of the hundreds of empty houses in town, and found something interesting. Spray cans.

Roger didn't usually paint with spray cans, but he had tried it when he was twelve, and at the time, he found it fairly easy. After a few rounds with it on the basement wall, he realized it was still as easy. It was like painting, it just gave a bigger result faster.

He wasn't an idiot. He had seen people, the so-called Human Crew, spraying the streets with their own spray cans. He'd read the words "The FAYZ sucks" over and over again at random places, and he'd seen the rather vulgar pictures on the walls everywhere. It wasn't something he really enjoyed seeing, especially because he kept feeling that they were wasting something that could potentially become art. And he'd seen guys like Sam and Edilio chase after them and take away their spray paint, telling them not to waste the town like that. That part made him laugh every time. The town was gone to pieces already; the tagging was not the thing doing the most damage around there.

But tagging was not what Roger wanted to do. He wanted to do street art. He wanted to beautify the town, the way he knew he could. And maybe, in the process, he could find that feeling, that escape, that he'd been trying to find for so long.

So Roger started his new type of drawing. Sometimes Justin would be there, sitting on a trash can, or maybe on an old table someone left out in the street for no reason what so ever. It happened. Sometimes Justin wandered around on his own, while Roger painted. It was just routine for them now.

What Roger painted depended on his mood. Sometimes he covered an entire wall with landscapes, sometimes he drew small animals and sometimes he drew butterflies. The one rule he had was to keep it light hearted and positive. No death and destruction, no crying, no storm.

It took three weeks before he was approached by someone.

Roger was painting on a brick wall that had so far been un-touched by anyone. He was trying to cover it with flowers, but constantly got annoyed by the windows in the way. Not that he should've expected anything else, when he decided to draw on a house wall. Justin wasn't there, so he was alone for once.

Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed someone approaching him with fast steps. It was Edilio Escobar. Roger's lips turned upwards in a small smile. He'd been waiting for this day, but he didn't turn to face the other boy. Instead, he kept painting, first a blue flower, then a green. The steps behind him stopped, and Roger kept painting. Edilio didn't say a word.

After a few more minutes, Roger had to turn around. Why wasn't Edilio yelling at him yet? It was clear that it was him who had drawn on half of the town the last weeks. There Edilio was, sitting on the ground, just staring up at him and at the wall, brows furrowed together and lips slightly parted, like he was trying to take in every detail.

Roger bit his lip, staring back at Edilio, but he didn't move his eyes. Slowly, Roger walked over and sat down next to him, placing both arms beside him and leaning on them while he stretched his legs foreward. Edilio still didn't look away.

"Shouldn't you be yelling at me by now? Why so curious?" he asked, breaking the silence.

This question made Edilio finally look away, and look over at Roger instead. The look on his face told Roger he was seriously thinking about the question, wondering and pondering. In the end he just shrugged, before replying.

"I - I don't really know."

There eyes met for a few seconds, before Edilio looked down, and back up at the wall.

"It's nice to see something beautiful in this town again," Edilio continued. Their eyes met again. "If you know what I mean?"

Roger did know what he meant. For too long destruction and horror was all that this place had seen. He didn't think that would change anytime soon, but if he could help make this place a better place, he would. He started this street art takeover for two reasons. One, to try and give himself an escape, to find the feeling he'd been missing since the start, the feeling of being okay. And two, to bring some new life into Perdido Beach, not just for him, for everyone.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It's like a breath of new air." Roger answered.

Edilio nodded. "Exactly."

Nobody said anything the next few minutes. Both of them were just studying the half-finished wall.

"I should probably finish what I started," Roger said, and stood up from the ground. He then turned around and reached out for Edilio, helping him up on his feet.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Edilio asked.

That was a weird question, Roger thought, but shook his head, because he hadn't eaten anything since last night, and it was late in the afternoon, judging by the sun.

"What is there to eat?"

Edilio laughed, and the sound made Roger feel happy, like really happy, for the first time in a while.

"I'm sure we can find something."

He considered it for a moment. He did have to finish the wall, and he wasn't hungry. He'd learned to go a few days without food by now, but he didn't want to say no to food, or no to spend more time to Edilio.

"Okay. You go ahead, I'll be there in five. I just have to pack my stuff," he said, and gestured to the spray cans and his bag. Edilio nodded, and gave him a last striking smile before he turned around and walked away.

Roger stared after him. The entire chat, even if brief, had felt really good. It had been a while since he talked to someone who was not five year old. And then Roger thought that maybe, just maybe, he didn't need the old memories to feel alright. Maybe he had to try to make some new.


End file.
